Extras

"Shh!" Lai giggled. "When Nana cuts it, it'll sort of explode. Not in a lethal way…just in a cake-spreading way."

Aya's jaw dropped as she tried to imagine the city's illustrious faces covered with pink frosting.

"But that's…" "Pure genius? I agree," Lai said, turning away with a smile. "Just remember that you promised, Nosey. You owe me one kept secret."

Aya pinged for Frizz's location, then went to find him on the upstairs balcony. He was alone, looking out over the darkened privacy gardens.

"I have an ethical question for you, Frizz."

He turned to her, his manga eyes glittering with the safety fireworks overhead. "An ethical dilemma? At this party?"

She looked around: no glittercams sparkled in the air, and Moggle was the only hovercam in sight. Nana Love's garden was off-limits to cams tonight, which was probably why the balcony was empty.

"What if you were a kicker, Frizz, and you knew something was going to happen at, say, a party? And it might be host-shaming—definitely shaming—but you'd promised not to tell anyone?"

"Hmm," he said. "It's only embarrassment we're talking about, right?"

"Yeah, but quite a lot."

He shrugged. "Probably I'd keep my promise."

She sighed, staring across the city at the windows flickering with feed light—everyone watching the Thousand Faces on their wallscreens. "Sometimes I wish I could tell you secrets."

"Maybe you can soon."

Aya frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I've been thinking about what Tally said, how I'm a wimp for not telling the truth on my own."

He pointed as his temple. "Maybe Radical Honesty is getting a little old."

"But the cliques bigger than ever now!" she said.

"Exactly. They don't need me anymore."

Aya blinked, trying to imagine Frizz without his mortifying outbursts. "I don't know, Frizz-chan. I kind of need you around to keep me honest."

His arm wrapped around her shoulders, drawing her closer. "Don't worry. I'll still be here. And I'm not giving up on honesty, just Radical Honesty."

She leaned her weight against him. "But if you're not compelled to tell the truth, how will I know you still like my big nose? I'm not fixing it, you know. Tally-wa made me promise."

"Yeah, she told me about that. But don't worry, a little brain surge won't change my mind. Not about you."

They stayed there on the balcony for a long time, listening to the ebb and flow of laughter and music inside.

It was strange, hovering at the edges of the party. As long as she could remember, Aya had watched the Thousand Faces unfolding on the feeds, imagining herself as one of the anointed few. But now that she was really here, all she wanted was to be alone with Frizz, staring at the city over the empty expanse of Nana Love's cam-missing gardens, immensely happy that no one else wanted privacy tonight.

The tumult behind her was just a party, after all. Generations of bubbleheads had occupied this very mansion, weaning pretty much the same clothes, mostly saying the same things. Glittercams and face ranks didn't change that A soft thump came from below, and Aya looked down.

It was David, rolling to his feet. He must have jumped out of one of the windows.

Tally Youngblood was right behind him, descending as gracefully as a cherry blossom, her hands and feet darting out and catching windowsills and sashes to slow her fall. She landed softly, slipped her arm through David’s, and they made their way into the garden.

Frizz leaned closer. "I was wondering about those two."

"You heard what she said, though," Aya whispered. "No one since …" But Tally was leaning against David, pulling him deeper into the darkness, their shoulders pressed together in the cool night air.

"Moggle, are you getting this?" Aya began, then shook her head. "Never mind."

She turned to Frizz, leading him from the balcony with a smile.

"Come on, it's almost midnight. Let's go watch them cut the cake." 

About The Author

SCOTT WESTERFELD's teen novels include The Last Days, an ALA Best Book for Young Adults and the sequel to Peeps; So Yesterday, an ALA Best Book for Young Adults; and the Midnighters trilogy. Scott was born in Texas and alternates summers between Sydney, Australia, and New York City Visit his website at www.scottwesterfeld.com.